Free Yellowstone Romance Series - Bundle (# 2-5) by Peggy L Henderson Page B

her face gave off an expression of pure joy as she savored the luxury of her wash.
    Chase’s mouth went dry, and he groaned silently. He grabbed hold of the tree he stood beside to curtail the urge to walk up behind her and bury his face in her hair. His hands tingled, wanting to feel her silky skin, aching to caress her. The view she presented beckoned for his touch. He licked his lips, imagining her moan with pleasure while he trailed kisses up and down her neck. Visions of her beneath him with that look of ecstasy on her face caused his gut to tighten painfully.
    He tore his eyes away. Russell, you low-life piece of crap. You’re acting like a teenage peeping tom.
    He was about to turn and head back the way he’d come, when she gasped. Hastily, she pulled the shirt over her shoulder and fumbled with the buttons.
    “Uh…I didn’t know where you were,” he called lamely, clearing his throat. He scratched at the back of his head, feeling like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Rising quickly from the ground, she pulled the belt around her waist and headed towards him.
    “Next time, make your presence known.” Her eyes shot daggers at him, and she elbowed her way past.
    “You missed a button,” he called after her, and grinned when she sped up and practically ran back to camp. There won’t be a next time, Angel. Time to get home. Chase quickly strode to the creek and splashed water on his face. He wished the stream were deeper than a few inches. He needed a cold soaking right about now.
    He walked back to camp, and spied Sarah sitting by the fire. She’d braided her hair again. She didn’t look up or acknowledge him, but merely pushed a piece of bark his way. Some of those roots she had roasting all night rolled around on the piece of wood. Chase eyed the food skeptically. They looked like shriveled-up prunes. He sat down across from her and pulled the makeshift plate onto his lap.
    “Thanks,” he mumbled. He held one of the fig-sized roots between two fingers, and tentatively bit into it. His eyebrows rose, and his mouth watered in response to the pleasant taste in his mouth. He looked over at Sarah. To his surprise, the root had a sweet flavor, similar to a yam.
    “What do you call this?” he asked.
    “It’s root from the camas flower.”
    “Those blue flowers you were digging up yesterday?” He recalled her foraging through a meadow, digging up flowers with a stick the day before when they’d stopped for a rest break. He’d done nothing but sit and catch his breath.
    She looked up at him from across the fire, studying his face with narrowed eyes. Her blue eyes shot icy daggers at him. He hadn’t noticed the knife in her hand, which she now pointed first in his direction, then made a sweeping motion through the air with it. “You are observant, and you learn fast. You are a grown man. Yet sometimes you behave like a little boy who needs a good switching from his mother because he forgets his manners.”
    One eyebrow shot up in amusement, and he grinned. “My mom never used a switch on me, Angel.”
    “Perhaps she should have,” Sarah retorted, her chin raised.
    Well, well. This could get mighty interesting . Her tongue-lashing was quite a turn-on.  It would be so much fun to spar with her right now. But he held back. Sarah had crawled under his skin in ways that gave him a decidedly uncomfortable feeling. He shifted his haunches on the hard ground. He never cared about other people’s opinion of him. That way he wouldn’t get hurt when they left. His old man sure hadn’t cared enough to stick around while he was growing up. His hand automatically went to the dog tags around his neck.
    Coach Beckman, the one man whose opinions had mattered, was gone. His own mother had never asked him for anything, whether it was doing well in school or on the football field. Sometimes he wished she had held him more accountable for his actions.  Deep down, he suspected she was afraid she might push